


Ten Past Twelve

by sukikobold



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Brothers, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sukikobold/pseuds/sukikobold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Occurs post-series. A lot can change in a few months, or even in one evening, as these boys have learned. As Greg leaves to wake someone up in the middle of the night yet again, he may receive a better response than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Past Twelve

It was after midnight in September. Greg couldn’t remember the exact time he had seen blinking on his nightstand when he got up. The hall was lit only by faint light drifting in through the window. Greg wasn’t generally afraid of the dark, but in the dead of night he was grateful for the visibility. It let him see the door at the end of the hall, the one farthest from his room. His feet made a soft padding noise on the wooden floor as he walked towards the far door. It was closed. Reaching up, he turned the worn handle and was relieved to find it unlocked. The door released a high-pitched creak as he slowly pushed it in.

The room inside was darker than the hall, and the beam let in by the open door provided only faint lighting. Greg could still recognize the familiar red carpet and sparse furniture in the dimness. In the far corner, opposite from the door, stood a bed. He could just make out the lump of a person curled up beneath its covers. Greg stepped quickly into the room.

“Wirt?” he asked once he reached the bed. The figure in it remained still. “Wirt!” he whispered louder, reaching over to tug on the sheets. The figure started and curled up tighter. “Wirt?” he repeated a third time. His brother rolled over with a groan.

“Greg?” He squinted at the boy through tired, bleary eyes. “What is it?”

“I had a bad dream,” whispered Greg.

Wirt buried his head in his pillow with another groan.

“Why didn’t you go to Mom and Dad?” he asked through the cotton.

Greg didn’t speak right away. “I didn’t want to wake them.”

Wirt turned his head so he could talk more clearly. “Look, it was just a dream. None of it was real, so don’t worry about it, okay?” He closed his eyes. After a few moments of silence Wirt opened them again. Greg hadn’t moved. Wirt sighed and turned away. “Look, just…go back to bed, Greg. I need to get up for school in the morning.”

Greg stood by the bed, watching Wirt’s back for a few more moments. “Okay,” he said softly before leaving.

 

A few months later on a chilly mid-December night, Greg woke up again. As he stared at the ceiling of his room, his small heart slowed, returning to its normal pace. He heard a familiar croak to his left and turned to look at Jason Funderburker.

“Did I wake you?” he asked the frog. Jason, tucked securely under the covers, merely blinked back at him. Greg sat up and thought for a minute. He then pulled off the covers and slipped out of bed. “I’m going to Wirt’s room. Do you want to come?” he asked. Jason croaked again in response, and Greg reached over and lifted him into his arms. “Okay, but you gotta be quiet when we walk through the hall, okay?”

The wood floor was icy compared to Greg’s bed and he hugged Jason closer as he stepped onto it. He crept quietly past his parents’ room and the bathroom, all the way to the room at the end of the hall. The door was ajar, and Greg pushed it in carefully. It was dark. Any light that could come from the room’s own window was blocked off by thick blinds. He crossed the red carpeting and stood next to the bed in the far corner. After a slow inhale he spoke.

“Wirt?”

The figure in the bed didn’t move. As Greg was about to repeat himself, Jason Funderburker croaked loudly. Wirt shifted then rolled over.

“Greg?” He squinted at the two of them. “What is it?”

“I had a bad dream.”

Wirt turned onto his back and rubbed his eyes with one hand. “…What about?”

“The Beast.”

Wirt’s hand moved down over his mouth and he blinked slowly up at the ceiling. Greg waited quietly, although the air in the bedroom wasn’t much warmer than the hall and his feet were freezing.

“Here,” said Wirt at last, pushing himself up on one elbow and pulling the covers back. He shifted back towards the wall to give more room. Greg climbed in quickly and Wirt pulled the bedspread up over both of them. Wirt made no comment about Jason, who lay between them staring inexpressively.

“So what happened?” Wirt asked. Their heads lay at the edge of opposite ends of the pillow and he didn’t need to raise his voice above a whisper to be heard.

Greg didn’t answer at first. He pulled the covers over his nose and curled up. It wasn’t until his feet began to thaw from the warmth of the sheets that he began to speak. “I was lost in the woods,” he said, “Again, I guess. I was looking for you, I think, but it was really dark and I couldn’t see anything. Then the Beast…showed up. He said he knew where you were and wanted to show me, so I followed him. After walking for a while, we stopped and I looked around for you, but I still couldn’t see anything. So I said ‘Where’s Wirt?’ and he said ‘Here.’ And I looked around again and-” Greg had to stop. Wirt, awake now, watched him placidly and said nothing.

“You were a tree.”

Wirt let out the breath he had been holding in and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to ask what kind of tree.

“Greg,” he said.

“I know,” Greg replied, “It wasn’t real.” He pulled Jason into a hug beneath the sheets. “But…”

“But it felt real,” Wirt finished for him. He bit his lip. Lately he had been thinking a lot about dreams; how the mind could produce everything you needed to think something existed. Even though he and Greg both shared memories of their journey through the Unknown, he had no solid proof that it had really happened. He could guess how people would respond if he ever did attempt to tell them about it. As he drifted back out of his thoughts, Wirt saw that Greg was hiding now beneath the sheets.

“Greg.”

A cavernous opening formed in the covers and Wirt could see a pair of anxious eyes peering out at him.

“Listen, I…” Wirt struggled to come up with the right words. He didn’t understand how he could read and compose (or at least attempt to compose) poetry all the time and still not come up with the right things to say when he needed to. “I don’t know if this will help, but I know that dream.”

Greg emerged a bit more from his shelter. “Well, yeah,” he said, “It’s like when we were in the Unknown.”

“No, I mean I’ve _had_ that dream.” Wirt rolled so he was lying on his back and his voice softened. “I’ve had it a lot, actually.”

“You had a dream where you were a tree?” Greg asked. Perhaps in other circumstances Wirt would have chuckled at the response.

“No,” Wirt continued, “The roles are switched, and I’m the one who’s lost. I’m looking for you, and when I-” He stopped and closed his eyes. No, he didn’t need to hear that story. Turning back on his side, Wirt tried to give Greg a smile. “I know. It’s not real, but it’s scary.”

Greg crawled out enough so he could rest his head back on the pillow, and pulled Jason out with him. “Wirt?” he asked.

“Hm?” Wirt had closed his eyes again.

“We’re okay though, aren’t we?” Greg sounded more concerned than fearful now.

“Yeah,” said Wirt, opening his eyes after a moment and smiling. He reached out and put his hand on Greg’s hair, rubbing his forehead with his thumb. “We’re both okay.”

Greg smiled at him and nuzzled into the pillow, closing his eyes.

“Yeah,” Wirt repeated under his breath. Then he let himself drift back into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
